


My Fault

by camichats



Series: Imagine James and Sirius Prompts [25]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Comfort, Established Relationship, Insecurity, James Lives, M/M, Scars, Second War with Voldemort, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 13:43:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12632238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats
Summary: Sirius has scars from Azkaban. He worries about what James would think of them.





	My Fault

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: “Hi, could you maybe write something about Sirius having scars and being rather insecure about it, because he thinks they're ugly and blames himself for getting them (unlike Remus, who had no control over how he got his...). James reassures him entirely. Thanks! Btw, I love everything you've written!”
> 
> Originally posted on [tumblr](https://imaginejamesandsirius.tumblr.com/post/167090907825/hi-could-you-maybe-write-something-about-sirius)
> 
> Now with a sequel/companion piece [No It Wasn't](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13106895/chapters/29986833)

Sirius shivered though the water was hot. Almost too hot, but he welcomed it. He picked up the bar of soap and quickly ran it over his body, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would stop him from recognising where his various scars were as his hands passed over them.

He didn’t bother to wash his hair before turning the water down and stepping out. He started toweling off, happy that the mirror was fogged over. Before James had gotten his memories back and returned, Sirius used to stand naked and stare at his reflection. Some sort of self-hating penance he felt the universe was owed.

Now he couldn’t stand to look because it’s what James would see. Marks from Azkaban that would never fade and that he could never hide.

A knock sounded on the door. “Sirius?”  _Speak of the devil_ , he thought, equal parts happy that James was near and scared that he would come in before Sirius was ready.

“One second,” he called, throwing on his shirt. He didn’t have a jumper in here, hadn’t thought he’d need one so immediately. So long as James didn’t want a hug right away, he’d be fine. He opened the door, plastering on a smile that felt only half-fake.

“Hey,” James said, smiling at him. “I was going to attempt to make chocolate biscuits, want to join me?”

“Er, sure, let me just--”

“Nonsense! You already have everything you need-- mostly me.” James grabbed his hand with a broad grin and started pulling him towards the stairs. “I say mostly me because I got all the ingredients together already, but who knows, you might want nuts or raisins in them or summat.”

“Why the hell would I want _raisins_ in my biscuits?” Sirius asked incredulously. “It’s been fifteen years, mate, but not _that_ long.”

“Hey, you never know. The other day someone tried to convince me Remus was straight-- the world can be really buggering weird.”

Sirius snorted, feeling better. Being around James always did that to his mood, and a decade in Azkaban couldn’t change that. He’d almost forgotten why he wanted something thicker to cover his torso until later when James was kissing him softly, his hands trailing up his back. Sirius froze when James’s fingers grazed over a scar, causing James to pull away.

“You okay?” he asked, not having noticed anything other than how uncomfortable Sirius was now.

Sirius swallowed and nodded, not looking at James as he moved out of his arms. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“You want any company?”

Sirius didn’t answer right away, because he _did_ want company but that would defeat the purpose of leaving in the first place, and it’s not like he could relax if James came along anyways. He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He hesitated before he left, arms tight against his body as he pecked James’s cheek.

Upstairs, in the room that was technically his but felt like the opposite, Sirius rested fitfully. He couldn’t get to sleep, gingerly turning over several times throughout the night. Eventually, he pushed back the duvet and climbed out of bed. He padded to the room James was staying in, and knocked quietly so as to not wake him if he was asleep. A few moments later, James opened it, looking older without his glasses on. It was funny, Sirius thought absently; he used to look younger without them.

James stepped aside in silent invitation, and Sirius accepted. James walked to the bed, allowing Sirius to close the door and lean against it as he thought about what he wanted.

“I scratched myself to hell in Azkaban,” he whispered hoarsely. Then flinched. But continued. “My nails would get caught sometimes.” He stared down at his hands now, nails cut down short and filed to harmlessness. He did it so often now, he knew the others had noticed, but had the tact not to ask. “They’d get infected but not bad enough to do anything to me. Just made them scar bigger.” He had always swung between vague happiness that his magical core was big enough to save him, and disappointment at the same fact.

James didn’t move from where he was sitting on the bed, the duvet pushed to the side from when he’d gotten up. Sirius could tell he wanted to move, but was grateful that he didn’t. “Is that why you don’t like when I touch you?”

He wasn’t judging or accusing, but Sirius shrunk in on himself regardless.

“You know I don’t care about that right?”

Sirius didn’t answer.

“Remus has scars, you know I’ve never thought less of him for that.”

“He didn’t have a choice,” Sirius said, because Remus hadn’t. The wolf part of him made him bite and scratch at himself, scarring Remus, but when the wolf was like that… it _wasn’t_ Remus, not really, and they all knew it. Besides, “They’re neat. Clean.” His were jagged, a monument to the years when he had thought he was as mad as everyone claimed.

“Sirius… do you really think I could hate any part of you?” The thing about James was… he wasn’t trying to guilt Sirius; he was honestly asking. “I’m not going to tell you that they’re beautiful or some shit because, even coming from me, you wouldn’t believe that.” Sirius noticed that James didn’t say that he wouldn’t mean it.

He was silent, more for lack of anything to say than because he wanted to be, and James motioned helplessly. “What do you want me to say?”

Sirius shrugged, shoulders tight.

“Okay. What do you want me to do?”

He held his hands slightly out and to the side, as much of an answer as he could give. Fortunately, James understood and stepped toward him, enveloping him in a warm hug. Sirius took a shuddering breath, finally relaxing against James. He wasn’t ready for him to see yet, but this helped more than he had thought was possible. He snuggled in as much as he could. “Can I stay here tonight?” he asked into James’s shirt.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a prompt driven blog @[imaginejamesandsirius](https://imaginejamesandsirius.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Please send in a prompt of your own!


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